A MIDNIGHT VISITOR.
The castaways kept no watch during this night on their island home, and
for two very good reasons. They knew that there was no other person on
the key, and, that being the case, there was no one against whom they
should stand guard. In event of a sudden storm no further precautions
could be taken, and Jake and Ben, who slept near the front of the camp,
would be awakened by the first dash of rain, which was all that was
necessary.
Therefore it was that the little party laid down to sleep as soon as
Aunt Chloe’s prayer was ended, and no one thought of possible evil.
The key was so small that a single glance was sufficient to reveal
the probable fact of its being uninhabited by man or any other animal
larger than a mouse, and the castaways felt the most perfect sense of
security as they gave themselves up to the slumber which weighed so
heavily upon their eyelids.
When her devotions were ended old Chloe complained long and bitterly
because she had been deprived of her tea, and declared that she would
not be able to “sleep a wink” until after drinking two or three cups
of Young Hyson, but even while she grumbled and scolded, her eyes had
closed, not to be opened until all the occupants of the camp were
suddenly startled into wakefulness.
How long he had been in the land of Nod before he was aroused in a
fright by a loud shouting, Ben could form no idea. When he had lost
consciousness the regular breathing of Gertie and old Chloe told that
they were already in the region of dreams, and Jake was stretched out
by his side, yawning every few moments as if his head was about to
fly asunder. Then came a time when he may possibly have been dimly
conscious of resting, and suddenly a loud outcry that caused him to
spring to his feet at the same instant he opened his eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he shouted, trying in vain to peer into the tent,
and as he repeated the question an exclamation of mingled surprise and
fear from the female members of the party told that they were not the
cause of the noise which had aroused the camp.
“Come here, Ben! Come quick or we’ll lose him!” was heard in an
imperative tone from the beach, and there was no difficulty in
recognizing the voice as belonging to the ex-cook of the Sea Queen.
Full of wonder that Jake should be so far away from home when he was
as much in need of rest as any one, Ben started at full speed in the
direction from which the summons had been heard, shouting as he ran:
“All right; I’m coming!”
The moon shone round and bright in the heavens, causing the white sand
to glisten but little less than at noonday, and lighting up every
portion of the island, save where the trees cast black shadows, until
the smallest object could easily be discerned.
Before Ben had taken a dozen steps he was beyond the line of mangroves,
and could see far up on the beach the form of Jake alternately bending
over a huge round object and running to and fro as if he had suddenly
taken leave of his senses.
It was not until he was close upon the cook that he could make out what
had occurred, and then everything was readily understood.
Jake was doing his best to prevent a large turtle from scuttling away
into the water, by running in front of him, making a hideous outcry,
and trying from time to time to turn him on his back.
“Come on an’ help me tip this feller over!” the cook shouted as soon
as he saw Ben. “He must weigh three or four hundred pounds, an’ I’ve
pretty nigh pulled the arms out of me tryin’ to put him on his back.
I’ve been yellin’ to waken some of you people for the last half-hour,
an’ had begun to think I’d have to give up the job, for he’s gettin’
mighty close to the water.”
Ben had never had any experience in the work of turning turtles, but
he had heard enough about it to know that he could approach either
side or the rear of the huge shell without fear of injury, and he laid
hold with a will, the sand flying in every direction as the turtle was
finally laid on his back just as old Chloe came running up breathless
and excited.
The sight of the captive prevented any necessity for questions; but yet
it did not tell the whole story of what Jake had seen that night, for
he ran along the beach a short distance, and when he returned he had
his hat nearly full of small, white eggs.
“Where did you get them?” Gertie screamed in delight as the cook held
one in the air that there might be no question as to the nature of this
latest addition to their larder.
“The turtle left ’em here not half an hour ago,” Jake replied in a
tone of pride because of his success. “I was jest fallin’ off to sleep
when I ’spied her crawlin’ up out of the water, an’ I knew pretty nigh
what she was about. I crept after her as quiet as a cat goes for a
mouse, an’ waited ’till she’d made her nest an’ filled it. Then I tried
to tip her over, but the job was a little too much, an’ I had to yell
for Ben.”
Old Chloe and the cook were delighted with the capture; but Master
Clark did not think it a matter which called for any very great
amount of rejoicing. Had they been in want of food he would have felt
as highly elated as any one; but as it was, they had sufficient for
many weeks, and he did not consider a turtle, however large, anything
particularly valuable.
“We’ll live like lords for two or three days,” Jake said, looking at
the eggs much as if he was tempted to make an omelette even at that
late hour, “an’ after we have cleaned the shells I reckon we can
contrive to rig up a well that will keep us supplied with water.”
The cook did not explain how this could be done; but he appeared to be
so positive of success that to the others the turtle increased rapidly
in value, until all regarded it as a veritable prize.
Nearly half an hour was spent in commenting upon the captive and her
eggs, and then the little party retired to their canvas house, where
their slumbers were undisturbed until the sun peeped over the world
of waters at the tiny key which had so suddenly and unexpectedly been
peopled.
The chief work of the day was to be rafting goods from the wreck to the
shore, but before this was begun Jake killed the turtle and separated
the shells that old Chloe might make a soup for dinner. Ben gathered
quite a large pile of wood, and promised to bring something from the
brig which could be made to serve as a fire-place. The tea-famished
negress succeeded in brewing several cups of her favorite beverage for
breakfast by building a small fire on the sand directly under the pot,
and after the morning meal was ended the entire party went down to the
beach.
The water inside the reef was as calm as a mill-pond, and even outside
there was not a ripple on the glassy surface, which slowly rose and
fell in long undulations that struck the side of the wreck in a lazy
manner, as if too indolent to raise the slightest line of foam.
Gertie was eager to pay one more visit to the Simoon, and urged old
Chloe to take passage on the raft; but without avail. The mother of
Moses could not be persuaded to trust her precious body on the small
pile of timbers, even though assured that she might be of great
assistance in collecting such articles as would be useful while they
were forced to remain on the key. During the night she had begun to
understand that they were virtually prisoners on the narrow strip of
sand, and that she could not succeed in going away when she chose any
more than she could get employment from the inhabitants of their place
of refuge. She realized the possible horrors of her situation, and yet
if Jake had decided that it would be better to take to the raft in the
hope of reaching some port, it is extremely probable she would have
preferred to remain alone on the key rather than venture on the sea
which had caused her so much suffering.
Therefore her reply to Gertie’s proposition was a decided negative.
She seated herself in the shade of the mangrove which grew nearest the
beach, and the others started on the raft toward the wreck, propelling
their craft easily by pulling on the heavy hawser.
Despite the heat, which was growing more intense each moment, the
morning was an enjoyable one; the faint, salt-laden breeze which came
over the ocean was invigorating, and the castaways were too full of
animal spirits to dwell long upon what might ultimately be their fate
in case the key was situated in such shoal water that vessels would not
be likely to call there.
“Where do you suppose we are, Jake?” Ben asked as he and the cook
pulled at the hawser while Gertie sat Turk fashion on the highest
portion of the timbers.
“That’s jest what I’ve been tryin’ to figger out ever since the old
hooker struck the reef. I’ve often seen a chart of the Florida Straits,
an’ I don’t remember of any island standin’ by itself between Key West
and the Tortugas. Of course we couldn’t a’ drifted on to the Cuban
coast, an’ the only way I can fix it in my mind is that we’re to the
east’ard of the Nor’west Channel.”
“Would that bring us in the track of ships?”
“No; we’re clean off the course of everything unless it is the
turtle-fishers who sneak among all these keys in the reg’lar season,
which is pretty nigh over now. After we get through the job of wreckin’
we’ll look around our plantation a bit, an’ if we can see other small
islands south of here, we may make up our minds that we’re not so very
far from Cape Sable.”
“Where do you suppose the Sea Queen is?” Gertie asked in a tone such as
one uses when speaking of the dead.
“I reckon she’s cruisin’ ’round off the Marquesas with all hands on
the look-out. It ain’t likely Captain Irwin would keep on his course
without havin’ one try for us, though if he don’t see the boat after a
day or two he’ll conclude that some craft has picked us up.”
“You won’t have to go into the quack medicine business again for quite
a while,” Ben said with a smile.
“I’d rather be shipwrecked on the most desolate island that ever was
than go with _him_,” Gertie replied in a decided tone. “We haven’t got
a bad place in which to live; but if it was cold and wretched I’d be
happy because I’m away from that man.”
Master Clark was not quite prepared to spend the remainder of his days
on the key, but he was well content to stay there a long time in order
that Gertie might be separated from her step-father, and therefore the
two young castaways were in a very happy frame of mind.
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the raft at the
wreck; and after making the guiding-loop fast to a fragment of the
shattered rail, the three went on board the hulk which had proved to be
such a veritable place of refuge when they were drifting helplessly on
the fog-covered waters.
Jake lost no time in getting to work. His one desire was to find a
supply of water, and to that end all his efforts were directed. Gertie
searched through the cabin and state-rooms, as old Chloe proposed,
for such articles as might be converted into clothing, and procured a
quantity of sheets and bunting large enough to make quite an extensive
wardrobe. Ben’s first duty was to collect metal with which to build a
fire-place, and after succeeding he went into the lazarette, where he
found stowed in one corner, nearly hidden by a lot of cordage, three
cases of lime-juice.
The cook had worked harder than either of his companions, but without
accomplishing anything up to the time when Ben called to him that he
and Gertie had already gathered enough to make a load for the raft.
“Can’t you take it ashore?” Jake cried from the hold. “I’m working my
way down through the cargo----”
He was interrupted, and the children were positively terrified, by a
succession of piercing screams from the shore. That old Chloe was in
some great danger there seemed to be no doubt, but what had happened on
the uninhabited island no one could imagine.
Jake was out of the hold in an instant and joined Gertie and Ben, who,
with pale faces and dilated eyes, were gazing over the rail without
being able to see the evident sufferer, who continued to shriek in the
most frantic manner.
“Get onto the raft--never mind the goods. The old woman must have
fallen overboard!”
Jake knew as he spoke that such could not be the case, for if Chloe’s
head was above the water, as it must have been in order to permit such
an outcry, they would be able to see her. He did not stop to speculate
further, however, but leaping to the raft, closely followed by Gertie
and Ben, pulled desperately on the hawser, forcing the timbers through
the water until it bubbled and boiled around the bow, and all the while
the shrill cries of terror or distress rang out on the clear air with
painful distinctness.